


what's in a house?

by staccato



Series: Harry Mikaelson [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2018-11-19 14:01:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11314890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staccato/pseuds/staccato
Summary: alternate sorting





	1. Chapter 1

“Potter, Harry.”

Whispers began as soon as Professor McGonagall called out the name, and Henrik grimaced. Ignoring the stares of his future school mates, he walked onto the dais. He really needed to get that blasted name changed. It hadn’t been a problem at the Dursleys, where the Muggles called him boy--before they became too scared to even look at him in the eye, that is--but now he was in Hogwarts, about to start his formal education and career in the Wizard World, and he would very much like to be attributed for his accomplishments by his proper name.

Even Magic recognized him as Henrik Mikaelson, the incident at Gringott's just proved it. If only everyone else would do the same.

_“Oh!”_

_“Hello, Archimedes.”_ Henrik greeted, amused.

Esther had, of course, told him about the Sorting Hat. It had been his favorite tale as a child. Godric Gryffindor’s hat, blessed personally by the magic of the four founders and capable of legilimency, a feat few Magicals could do. It was inanimate, yet it also had a soul. To young Henrik, the hat had been the most enchanting piece of magic ever cast.

She had not, however, made any mention of the song.

_“That is a new addition, I am afraid.”_ Archimedes said. _“A thousand years is terribly boring when you’re only a hat.”_

_“Ah, but you’re Gryffindor’s hat, are you not?_ ” Henrik asked. “ _Surely you picked up on some of his…adventurousness?”_

Archimedes snorted. _“And if I am so inclined, who will take me?”_

_“I will,_ ” Henrik volunteered. _“As the Heir of Slytherin, it is be my responsibility of take care of the school, isn’t it?”_

_“Only one-fourth of it.”_

Henrik shrugged. _“So you’ll be part of the one-fourth.”_ He paused. _“Unless Gryffindor claimed you for his own descendants?”_

_“If he did it, they didn’t do a very good job.”_ Archimedes faked a put-out sigh. _“Very well. Come to the Headmaster’s office this Friday afternoon. I had always wanted to explore the Forbidden Forest. Now, let’s sort you.”_

Henrik suppressed a smirk. He could hear, if not see, the student body shifting and grumbling. Even Professor McGonagall seemed impatient, judging by the quiet tapping of her shoes against the ground. 

_“However, it seems as if you’ve already made up your mind.”_ Archimedes mused.

Henrik grinned. _“Green does look good on me.”_

_“Yes, but so does yellow._

HUFFLEPUFF!”


	2. more hufflepuff fluff (not really)

Hogwarts is a disappointment.

It’s not because of his house, however. Time has distorted Helga Hufflepuff to be a pushover, and her house one of the leftovers. But at its core, Hufflepuff values loyalty and diligence, both honorable traits. It has produced many admirable Magicals, including but not limited to Bridget Wenlock, Newt Scamander, and of course Helga Hufflepuff.

All of this Pomona Sprout announces with pride after the first years retire to their dormitory, yet Henrik still hears Justin Finch-Fletchley grumbling under his breath about how “Gryffindor is so much better.” At first Henrik had assumed that that opinion was one unique to Muggleborns. They are uneducated about all things Magical, after all. They will learn in the incoming days.

Except, they don’t, because everyone, including Purebloods, has assigned stereotypes to the four houses. Hufflepuffs are lazy and useless. Ravenclaws are quiet and intelligent. Gryffindors are reckless and good. Slytherins are cunning and evil.

The latter frustrates Henrik the most, because how could people be so stupid to believe that eleven year olds sorted into that house want world domination? In his first week, he has already seen new Slytherins being attacked by older Ravenclaws, yet no one rebuked them. The only professor that seems to stand up for the young snakes is Severus Snape, and for that, he is labeled as biased.

In some ways, Henrik is glad he is in Hufflepuff. He dreads to think what people would have labeled him if he wore green and silver instead of yellow and black. He had planned to declare himself as the heir of Slytherin, too. No doubt someone would have called him the new Dark Lord.

He is not ashamed to be in Hufflepuff, of course. He takes pride in the traits they value and the fact that they seem to describe him best. He is not ashamed to admit that he is loyal to his family. And if Archimedes thinks he will thrive here, then he will thrive.

No, he wanted to go Slytherin because of the Slytherin Court, but’s no setback. It is open to any Slytherin, and Henrik is as Slytherin as they come.

His blood said so, even if his scarf doesn’t.

<> 

So Henrik makes nice with his housemates. There are five boys in his year, small enough of a number that each get separate rooms. The dormitory is underground but warm and inviting, with a large fireplace, surrounded by soft armchairs, in the commons room. It is decorated with the house color, but Henrik doesn’t mind. It serves as a daily reminder that he is a Hufflepuff, and thus he should act like one.

It is easy enough to do so. Henrik, despite having been reared by Mikael, is not a bad person at heart, and neither are his house mates. Over the next several months, he sits with them during meals and helps them with homework and comforts them when they get homesick and generally gets to know them ~~and win their loyalty.~~

Then there are the teachers and the Hogwarts curriculum. Henrik is surprised to discover how knowledgable he is compared to the rest of the students. Except Muggleborns and the few Half-bloods, all of these children have been raised in the Wizarding World by Magical guardians. They should at least know something spells and runes and potions.

But they do not. They behave like newborn babies, and the teachers treat them as such. On his first day of Transfiguration class, Professor McGonagall had to go around the classroom and adjust some people’s grip on their wands.

Henrik was the only one in that class to transfigure a toothpick into a needle and back.

“Well, of course we don’t know how to hold a wand.” Zachary Smith retorted. “We only got our wands after our letter arrived, _and_ we aren’t allowed to practice magic outside of school.”

Henrik had blinked, confounded. “What’s the point of learning magic if you can’t use it, then?”

Smith shrugged. “I don’t know, it’s just how things are. And anyway, we can use magic after we graduate.”

Henrik has grown to hate the phrase it’s just how things are. It’s a lazy excuse that doesn’t even properly answer the question. For instance:

“Why is one of our teacher dead?”

“I don’t know, he’s been teaching for a long time now. I guess it’s just how things are.”

Henrik would have let it slid if it was only Binns. After all, he lived through history, and if needed, he can learn more through books. He can’t complain about the chance to nap, either. He’s a growing boy, after all.

But Binns is not the only incompetent teacher. There’s Quirinus Quirrell, to start.

“H-hello cla-ass.”

As stated, Henrik is not a cruel person. He understands social anxieties and speech disorders and impediments. But when the teacher for Defense Against the Dark Arts, who is supposed to teach students how to defend themselves against the Cruciatus Curse, is scared of his own shadow, then there’s problem.

Henrik can’t fire him, so he goes to the older kids, hoping one of them is willing to tutor him for the year. He even offers them compensation for it, except none of them learned anything in their first year, either.

“There’s a curse on the position, yeah?” Cedric Diggory explained. “So none of the defense teacher can stay for more than a year, and the ones who apply are, um, incompetent. No one who is smart and qualified would apply for the job. They know they’ll die within the year.”

Henrik stared at him blankly. “Have they done anything to _try_ to counter the curse? It’s Defense Against the Dark Arts, shouldn’t they know how to counteract dark curses? And what about Dumbledore? Isn’t he the most powerful wizard ever? Why can’t he-”

And then there’s Severus Snape.

Unlike the other two, Severus Snape is overqualified for his job. If the rumors are true, he is a Potions prodigy.

Yet here he is, teaching snot-faced children the basics of brewing. It’s clear he neither enjoys nor excels at the task, so Henrik is confused as to why he does it. Why suffer migraines and essays when he could be brewing potions that could change society?

More perplexingly is his attitude towards Henrik. Snape is known to favor Slytherins and despise Gryffindors, yet the glare Henrik received as he entered the room…it could only be described as pure hatred.

“Potter!” The man suddenly yelled. “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Luckily for Henrik, he excelled at Potions. Salazar Slytherin was said to be celebrated for his skills in Potions, and so Esther drilled everything about the subject into him. It helped that the forest surrounding the village contained most, if not all, Potion ingredients.

“You would get the Draught of Living Death.” He replied easily.

Snape narrowed his eyes. “That would be the Draught of Living Death, _sir._ Five points from Hufflepuff for your disrespect, Potter.”

Henrik gaped.

Wayne Hopkins jumped to his defense. “That’s not fair, sir. He answer the question correctly.”

Snape turned onto him immediately. “Another five points for speaking out of turn.”

Hopkins clicked his mouth shut, and sent an apologetic look towards Henrik.

“Let’s try this again. Where would you look if I tell you to find me a bezoar?”

“You would look in the stomach of the goat, sir.” Henrik said carefully. Snape’s behavior was starting to remind him greatly of Mikael’s, and Henrik would love nothing more than to hurt him for it. But it was his first year, and he didn’t want to be expelled, yet. He also didn’t want to earn the ire of his housemates quite so quickly.

“And what is the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?” Snape snapped out.

This was easy. Esther and he used this plant often for the potions they gave the werewolves in their village. He wonders if that particular werewolf had forgotten to take it that night. “Nothing, sir. They’re the same plant, sir.”

“And what, Potter, are the ingredients to the Polyjuice Potion?”

Henrik paused. He knew the answer. He had seen Esther brew it before. He helped Esther brew it before. He tried to brew it himself once to play a prank on Elijah.

He had failed that time (Mikael had discovered the cauldron and beat him for it), but he knows the recipe.

But an eleven year old in this day and age definitely should not know it.

It is clear. Snape is trying to humiliate him for no discernable reason, and Henrik will not tolerate it.

“The ingredients are: fluxweed, knotgrass, lacewing flies, leeches, boomslang skin, bicorn horn, and a piece of the person you want to turn to. Sir.” Henrik added, almost like an afterthought.

He looked up at Snape, daring him to call him wrong. Snape stared back, his gaze intense and unwavering.

The class collectively held its breath.

Snape looked away first, turning to walk back to the front of the classroom. “It seems you at least had the forethought to read your textbook, Potter, but that doesn’t mean you will do well practically. Today,” he waved his wand at the blackboard to reveal a set of instructions. “You all will be brewing the cure for boils. Begin.”

And so too begins the animosity between one Severus Snape and one Harry Potter, formerly Henrik Mikaelson.

 

 

 


End file.
